


The Morning After

by cazflibs



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: M/M, Red Dwarf X, crack is good for the soul, red dwarf xi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 09:11:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11940951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazflibs/pseuds/cazflibs
Summary: When Lister got drunk, he got DRUNK. But no matter how embarrassing the events, at least there was nobody to answer to come the morning. After all, they were all alone. More or less...





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> I've no idea where this came from. Seriously. :-/ My brain farted this out in a few lazy hours today. Oh well. When you've gotta write crack, you've gotta write crack...

It may have been three million years since the legendary bender that landed him in deep space, but some things would always remain the same. When Lister got drunk, he got _drunk_.

Against the insistent buzzing hum of his hangover, Lister eyes peeled open in order to take stock. He was pleasantly surprised to discover that he'd passed out in his own bunk, which was rather impressive given the amount he'd consumed last night. But beyond that personal achievement, things were about to get rather...odd.

His hand began to swipe at the line of drool that had caked to his cheek before pausing in alarm as his blurry vision began to settle upon the Sleeping Quarters. The Cat was curled up in what was usually _his_ faithful shopping trolley, snuggling into a traffic cone pillow like it was an old teddy bear. Okay, that wasn't so bad. Kryten was calmly beginning to tidy the devastation that littered the room around him. That was fairly standard.

It was the three figures sat at the table that were rather out of the ordinary.

On one stool sat Hogey the Roguey, snacking on cold chips whilst he studied a map curiously. Another groaned under the great girth of a BEGG who was preoccupied with shuffling a deck of cards. The final stool was taken up by an unidentifiable GELF with matted grey fur who was slumped on the table, snoring gently.

“Kryten!” Lister’s voice croaked as he hissed to him urgently. “What the smeg is going on? What are they doing here?”

Glancing up from his happy work, the mechanoid’s rubber features twisted in confusion. “Don't you remember, sir?”

Lister blinked twice. “I'm gonna go with ‘no’.”

“We deed great battle across time and space!” Hogey announced grandly. “Our dual was - ”

“Now that's not true, is it, sir?” Kryten clucked with a reprimanding wag of his finger.

Hogey sank back into his chair mournfully. “No,” he admitted. “But we deed do great battle to see who could dreenk the most shots.”

“What?” Lister asked lamely.

“In your intoxication, you were lamenting that there were not many of us to help celebrate your birthday, sir,” Kryten explained. “So you hailed the surrounding ships and local BEGG base to invite everyone for a ‘bender’.”

Lister’s attention focused warily on the BEGG as he began dealing out a game of solitaire with an air of distinct smugness. Lister’s old deerstalker was perched triumphantly on his head.

“Oh _no_ ,” he groaned. “Don't tell me I was gamblin’ with BEGGs again.”

Clocking on to Lister’s hushed whisper, the BEGG glanced up. “Egwha toolay fortu,” he replied before waving a dismissive hand at the bunk, a solicitous wink not far behind it. “Mali huwat kata performance soola bunti.”

Dark eyes pinched in confusion, Lister glanced across to Kryten for translation. The mechanoid grimaced, his rubber neck drawn inwards like a tortoise retreating into its shell. “He says that you did indeed gamble and lose,” he explained. “But the performance was to his satisfaction.”

Lister swallowed as he clutched the duvet to his bare chest. He was somewhat relieved by the realisation that the BEGG’s tremendous bulk would have made it impossible for him to have fitted into the bunk with him. Still, he didn't overly want to know. “My head is bangin’,” he groaned nauseously. “Whatever I was drinkin’, it was lethal stuff.”

“That’ll be the Gelf-berry wine.” The familiar smug tones wafted across an air of stale mugginess that clung to the room. Busying himself in the kitchenette, Butler glanced over his shoulder. “It can be quite potent if you're not used to it. Isn't that right Ekwahektay?”

Lister glanced down to the GELF at the table who yawned into a stretch before turning back to face him, the long sharp teeth instantly recognisable. Ekwahektay grinned wickedly. “My tribe make many good trade deal with this wine,” he agreed in broken yet impressive English. “It make good night, yes?”

Hogey chuckled. “But you deed make good cocktails with your meexer!” he offered with an illustrative waggle of his finger.

“Mixer?” Lister echoed, confused. Casting his blurry vision across the Sleeping Quarters, they finally lit upon the propped-up figure of Sim Crawford in the corner. Her cobbled-together, Kryten-hand attachment was still stirring patiently at some unknown concoction.

Lister rubbed a hand across his clammy forehead. “Oh, Jesus!”

Jerking awake with a snort, a long-haired man sat bolt upright on the sofa. A half-eaten naan bread clung to his cheek. “Yes?”

“What?!” Lister blurted. He glanced across to Kryten. “How the smeg did _he_ get here?”

“Don't you remember, sir?” Kryten chirped patiently as he filled a black bin bag with a variety of crumpled cans and half-empty takeaway trays. “You asked me to dig out the rejuvenation shower from the cupboard on C Deck in order to invite him along. You assured me fervently that Jesus looked the sort that would be ‘up for getting pished’ I believe the phrase was, sir.”

Lister nodded to the man in an awkward greeting. “Um, how's it goin’?”

Jesus blinked unsteadily. “The JC Bag business has been quite blessed when it comes to sales,” he nodded gingerly, peeling the bread from his cheek. He eyed the ragabond collective at the table warily. “I've got to lay off that bark,” he muttered. “Well bad bark.”

Cubed fingers fiddled guiltily. “However, I'm afraid I did find a certain other device tucked away in the storage cupboard,” Kryten mumbled.

“What device?” Lister prodded meaningfully.

_“Howdy-doodily-do!”_

“Oh smegging hell -- ”

Nestled amongst the cleaning products stacked on Kryten’s cleaning trolley, Talkie Toaster piped up happily. _“Would anybody like any toast?”_

“No,” Lister groaned on auto-pilot. “No toa-” He paused thoughtfully as his hungover stomach rumbled appreciatively at the prospect. “Actually, I could probably go with some toast.” 

Talkie’s fascia lit up happily. _“Absolutely!”_ he cried, _“Coming right up!”_ He burst loudly and merrily into song. _“Oh what a beautiful moooooooorniiiiiiiing…!”_

“Argh! Just no smeggin’ singing!” Lister moaned as the wailing notes needled into his throbbing skull. He glanced around the room self-consciously. “Um - anybody else fancy a round or two?” 

The room lit up with murmurs of agreement before Kryten hushed them assuredly. “If everyone would like to join me in the Sleeping Quarters next door, I've already prepared a breakfast array for your enjoyment.” 

Struggling to his feet, Jesus plucked his away across the devastated room. “Ah yes, Lister did promise something to eat come the morn,” he croaked. His features pinched in confusion. “But pray tell, what is a ‘fry up’?” 

Butler whirled round, brandishing an impressive tray of teas and coffees. “I've been rather restricted given the limited offering here, but I have prepared some Mimosian Mountain-Roast coffee,” he announced smarmily. “Oh and Ekwahektay!” he called. “You'll be pleased to hear that I've brought along your favourite Earl Grey!” 

The GELFs gave a low growl of approval as they got up from the table, not quite noticing the expression of the now-murderous mechanoid. “This way, sirs,” Kryten growled stiffly as he wheeled the trolley with the still-snoozing Cat out into the corridor. 

“And don't forget!” Hogey called over his shoulder. “Next Tuesday you promise me dual across - ” 

“ - time and space, yeah I know,” Lister groaned sullenly. “It's in the diary.” 

With everyone gone, the Sleeping Quarters descended into silence once more. Rubbing at sore temples, Lister sighed bodily. “Well at least I didn't do anythin’ worth regrettin’,” he muttered. 

The bottom half of the bed began to groan. Startled, Lister shuffled backwards as the duvet slid back to reveal a startled mess of curls before the beginnings of a naked hologram emerged behind them. Blinking blearily, Rimmer peered around the devastated room before glancing back over his bare shoulder, the sheet now precariously clinging to his arse. 

Lister’s face retreated in realisation before a curious glance under the sheet confirmed that yes, he too was entirely lacking in the clothes department. Well. That was a turn of events. 

Awkward eyes pinched as the sheet slowly sank downwards once more before finally cocking his head in allowance. 

“Or any _one_ ,” he amended thoughtfully. 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Night Before](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13604898) by [LordValeryMimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordValeryMimes/pseuds/LordValeryMimes)




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